


Shelter

by Fadeddancer



Series: sleepy bois inc oneshots [3]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Gen, ghostbur angst, ghostbur has an existential crisis, inspired by Shelter (Madeon & Porter Robinson), it went in a bit of a different direction but oh well, no beta we die like wilbur, this one's kinda sad sorry, well it was at first, wtf how do i tag this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:40:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28248516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fadeddancer/pseuds/Fadeddancer
Summary: ghostbur is sad :(
Relationships: None
Series: sleepy bois inc oneshots [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2060271
Comments: 4
Kudos: 109





	Shelter

Ghostbur’s voice was echo-y in Tommy’s ears. That was odd. His voice used to be more solid, if quiet. He usually spoke in whispers anyway. Tommy was preoccupied with trying to hide from Dream and being frustrated at his dead brother’s inability to lie well.

Technoblade found Ghostbur’s change in voice less concerning, mostly because he was about to be executed. He barely noticed the echo.

Phil, however, was secretly _incredibly_ concerned about the changes his son had undergone. For one, he was translucent and refused to talk about anything that had been upsetting in his past life. He melted in the rain, which was upsetting due to the fact that he visited Techno and Tommy’s home frequently.

Phil hoped he wasn’t losing his son _again._

\--

Ghostbur, sometimes, when nobody was around to distract him, wondered why he was a ghost. Why couldn’t he have just died and been left to the eternal darkness that stretched before him prior to his ghost-ification? The nothingness of the “afterlife” seemed comfortable.

He was pondering this while wandering through the fields outside L’manburg, Friend strolling contentedly by his side. He suddenly felt tired, and the trees nearby offered shade from the unrelenting heat of the sun. (Not that Ghostbur could feel that heat, as he had no skin to feel it with.)

Ghostbur sat under the tree and loosely held Friend’s lead in his pale gray fingers. He felt exhausted, but he could not pinpoint exactly why. Today had not been a hard day at all! Nobody had tried to talk to him about Alivebur or asked him why he was still hanging around. He hadn’t heard anyone whispering behind his back as he passed by with Friend in tow. Actually, he couldn’t remember if anyone had talked to him at all today.

By the time he looked up from the ground, the sun had nearly set and the moon was visible on the other side of the sky. Friend was napping with her head by Ghostbur’s side, snuggled against the tree for support. The first few stars of the night twinkled coldly.

A shadow fell across him, and Fundy appeared in his vision. His son’s tail swished irritably. “Hello, Ghostbur,” he greeted shortly. 

“Hello, Fundy,” Ghostbur replied, voice soft and more echo-y than usual. It was as if he were in a perpetual cave, words tossed between the walls before being thrown into an abyss. He stared at the grass distantly.

Despite himself, Fundy felt worry settle into his stomach. Ghostbur always had something to say. _Always._ Why was he so quiet now?

Perhaps “I’m currently having an existential crisis, son, I’m so sorry,” was not a good answer. So Ghostbur remained quiet, running his fingers through the fluff on Friend’s head. He decided to say, “I’m sorry, Fundy, I’m just very tired. I don’t mean to be a damper on your night.”

“It’s going to rain tonight, Ghostbur,” Fundy replied. His words were clipped, but concern laced his face, which was obscured by shadows.

Ghostbur became confused, not quite comprehending what Fundy was trying to tell him.

“You’ll _melt_ if you stay here, Ghostbur,” Fundy continued, exasperated. His father’s memory was shit, even regarding events that happened after he died.

Realization dawned on Ghostbur’s gray face. “Oh. Well, I should head home then.” He made no move to get up, though. He couldn’t go to his sewer anymore. Techno’s house was too far away. Maybe Phil wouldn’t mind if he stayed for a night.

“Dad, get _up._ You’re going to melt when the rain comes, and I don’t want you to abandon me a second time,” Fundy ordered, tone rising. He sounded on the verge of tears.

Ghostbur stood. The two walked back to L’manburg in silence.

“Thank you for hating me a little,” Ghostbur said suddenly, sounding more like Alivebur than he ever had.

Fundy stopped. They were outside Phil’s temporary house. Confusion and concern were written on his face. He muttered a quietly astonished, _“What?”_

“I’d feel guilty if you didn’t.” Ghostbur smiled sadly. The sky opened slightly, droplets of rain falling from the gray clouds. Neither of them had noticed the change in the sky until a little sizzle sounded as the drops hit Ghostbur’s translucent form.

Fundy didn’t stop him from making his way slowly into Phil’s house.

Phil looked up from his book, surprised at Ghostbur’s presence. “Ghostbur! What a pleasant surprise,” he said, smiling at his son. Ghostbur replied with a gentle smile of his own, but nothing more.

They sat in silence for a while, the crackling fire the only noise.

“I think I'm fading away, dad,” Ghostbur whispered. Phil looked up at him, who sat cross-legged on the floor with Friend’s head in his lap. The rain outside grew unbearably loud for a moment.

Phil didn’t know how to reply.

“I know he doesn’t need protection anymore,” his son continued, “but will you help Fundy out of any situation he gets himself into? I don’t know how much longer I’ll be around.”

Phil nodded and desperately wished he could hug Wilbur. “Of course,” he said, voice breaking.

“I don’t think it’s for me to decide how long I stay here.” The echo in the ghost’s voice was much more prominent now. He pulled a piece of blue out of his pocket and stared at it solemnly.

His form flickered before Phil’s eyes, but only for a split second. He wondered how much longer he’d have three sons for.


End file.
